


Night Of The Hunter

by geekboyzayn



Series: Night of The Hunter [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Supernatural Elements, Vampire!Zayn, Werewolf!Niall, back alley blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:45:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekboyzayn/pseuds/geekboyzayn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn has always watched his prey before he goes after them. It’s the life of a vampire, the life of a hunter, a predator. It’s when he finds himself obsessively stalking one young Irish bartender, that he feels his watching may be getting the best of his better judgement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Of The Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> mmm yup, NoTH is going up here now too. probably one of the most enjoyable fic series to write, not going to lie.

Zayn wasn’t quite sure of when it all started. When exactly he’d found himself hidden in the darkness that filled the alley across the street from the bright neon of the popular night club. The dark alley wasn’t a new setting, he often found himself hidden in their depths more than most people. The darkness that hid him like an opaque blanket was his alley now. Years spent using the shadows to his advantage, to do what had to be done to keep him alive. No, that wasn’t what had Zayn so concerned. It was the fact he could not pinpoint the precise moment when he’d become so heavily invested in the blonde bartender that left the club every evening at exactly 4 am. 

Sure, there was the obvious first reason, the deep seeded need that raged in the pit of his stomach, the reason that knotted his muscles and made his insides cry out in yearning. It was an age old feeling, one he’d lived with for a near century. Had it really been that long? There was something else though, that kept Zayn Malik’s attention, that made the shadow drenched predator wait this long before taking initiative. Sadly, it was something that the olive skinned male could not put a finger on, nor had he really tried to. He simply accepted it, made peace with it, knowing that all too soon his needs would be well met and he’d be fulfilled and his cravings sustained. 

He couldn’t wait for that moment. Excitement was a child’s term in comparison.

Until this evening, Zayn’s nights had amounted to just standing at a safe distance, waiting and watching. Time meant nothing to him in the moments he got to see his obsession, to hear the thick irish accent float into the early morning air. Though at a distance away (across a street) the deep voice carried and it tickled Zayns ears, made him cock a half grin when he finally heard it. The quiffed male was a sucker for accents and he longed to hear the irish’s loud mumbled words closer to his ear. Not yet, though. Those words had become a near mantra since he’d started this frivolous game, then again he had plenty of time to spare, to waste on waiting for the perfect moment.

There had been no reasoning behind this drive (other than the blatantly obvious, the ‘hungry craving’) and no reasoning for why he’d kept his distance. Zayn was not a shy person when it came to something he wanted and he craved this blonde man. Something simply held him at a distance. It all didn’t matter however; he didn’t have to know the reasoning behind it all. That or he simply didn’t care enough to look into it and find an answer. There were so many people these days obsessing over small things with no reason; Zayn didn’t see the point in him having to give a point to his mission. 

He only needed a result. 

It’d been nearing the end of his second week (or was it the third?), leaning back against the brick of one of the buildings, tucked carefully away in the shadows. A cigarette hung loosely between his lips, the red glowing embers were the only things giving away his position in the dark and the thick white smoke that every once in a while slipped out his nostrils. He’d been there most of the evening again, watching carefully as the patrons of the club slipped in and out of the building. Drunken females and males stumbling to taxi cabs or down the street once last call had been called. 

At one point a female strayed too close. The stench of hard alcohol and thick haze of inebriation clung to her and Zayn wrinkled his nose in disgust, but his body edged forward. The rhythmic beat of a more natural bass tugged him to move closer. Tongue slipped between plush lips and he hovered at the edge of his shadows, watching the woman with near black eyes. He was hungry, having starved himself since he started his pointless obsession and this woman, was like a fat mouse in cage. Dumb and unexpecting. 

But he’d stopped, his eyes snapping to the side doors of the club, watching in delight as a mess of blonde hair and sparkling eyes stepped out. His focus no longer on the female, muttering in silence that she was lucky he had better things on his plate. She’d live to drink herself into a stumbling mess for another weekend. Right then, Zayn was once again entranced by an Irish man and his need to tease him without his own knowledge. 

Inappropriate thoughts filled his mind, chewing on his bottom lip as the butt of his smoke was dropped from his lips. Eyes darted to the discarded trash, still slightly lit and glowing beside his foot. He contemplated allowing it to smolder, the faint scent it gave off enough to distract him from the other various smells that flooded his senses. His foot moved to stamp it out as his eyes moved back to the distant image of the blonde, in fear he may miss something. Thankfully, his gaze had snapped back just in time to see the male in mid-stretch, red polo shirt riding up his torso as he stretched (having obviously worked hard due to the amount of patrons the club had that evening) and yawned. Zayn’s fingers extended out from his side, imagining running his fingertips along the sliver of exposed skin. He clenched his fist soon after, biting down hard on his lip. 

That fucking shirt. There was absolutely no point to it; it barely did its job. The fabric clung tightly to the male’s slim torso, showing off the hills and valleys of the skin and muscle just beneath it. That shirt was slowly becoming Zayn’s favorite. His want to trace his fingers over its cotton texture to feel it and to take in its true lack of constructed responsibility. He wanted to be able to tear it off, to rip it to shreds so it no longer could be worn, so it no longer tortured him so. There was a twinge of copper in his mouth now and he subconsciously scolded himself for losing his grip on control, the prick of pointed teeth sliding from his now slightly swollen lip. Get your head on Malik. 

As usual, Zayn shifted himself, ready to watch his little irish eye candy start his walk home (he lived four blocks south of the night club in an average sized flat), to begin the inner struggle within himself over whether or not he should end it now and follow the blonde home or postpone the torture he gave himself each night. However tonight, things did not go as usual. The mess of blonde, blue eyes and tight red polo shirt was crossing the street, was getting closer than Zayn had ever allowed before and in an instant the male panicked. Pushing back from the wall he stumbled in the shadows, stepping back just as the other male crossed the opening and just as a breeze rushed into the alley. 

In instant, there was no longer any control, no more mantra, and no more inner conflict. The proximity and the rush of scents that came off his fixation, that flooded him completely, it was too much to handle and all the composure, all the control that Zayn had built within himself (after 97 years of having to live with it) was suddenly gone. There was a flash of two red orbs in the darkness again, but it didn’t belong to a cigarette and the red lights followed the form of the blonde irish male as he disappeared to the other side of the alleyway opening. 

It was like hunting now; Zayn no longer had the will to over think his actions. In the moments that past, the mere seconds it took for Zayn to move out of the alley, the irish male had made it to the end of the block. Zayn kept his pace quick, but unsuspicious, hands stuffed into the pockets of the leather jacket that hung off his broad shoulders. If any passerby happened to glance at him, he’d look normal, like he fit in with the rest of the population. Oh how they were so sadly mistaken. 

Zayn was far from the norm, far from the meek Londoners that walked the streets that evening. They were mice in his snake tank, all prey to be taken when he so deemed it fit. Tonight, he’d dine on the gorgeous blonde mouse that trudged in front of him, which smelled of tropical shampoo, cologne (Armani perhaps?) and something so sweet and primordial that it had Zayn’s mouth-watering. It was in that instance, that the tanned skinned male fully realized just how hungry he truly was, and just how much he was going to enjoy this. 

It took another block of walking before the street became safely empty and the neighborhood no longer buzzed with activity, no interruptions. Zayn’s pace became quicker and his eyes burning into the back of his fixation. One hand slipped from the pocket of his jacket, fingers unfurling and his hand slowly began to reach forward. Just a few more inches. There was a familiar sharp pinch on his bottom lip and his excitement grew, finger tips grazed over the back of the red polo shirt and lips parted, about to grip and pull the blonde into the next alley as they crossed by it. To sink his teeth into the pale skin visible just below the boys ear. To taste what he had grown to so badly crave. Mind was completely void of all thoughts then as fingers clenched fabric.

The next thing that he came realize was that his back was pressed back into the brick wall of a building and his throat was being clenched rather mercilessly. A hiss slipped through his constricted throat, hands flying up to grip at the hand and while the other balled into a fist. His hand was slammed backwards, back against the wall before he could even put a force behind it and another hiss escaped his lips. 

“Right ballsy twat, aren’t cha?” 

Brows furrowed in a glare and Zayn finally came to realize just who had him pinned into the wall, to see who had him by the throat. His brain didn’t want to register the accent, nor did it want to accept the scent that was now so deliciously close, but when his eyes finally came to look upon the person he needed to accept that the little blonde mouse had the snake in its claws. 

“I know you been watchin’ me.”

His eyes did not stop their glare, his hand gripping tighter to the one clenched at his throat. 

“I know watcha are- fuckin’ leech.” The grip was tightened at his throat once more and Zayn wheezed in a breath, mouth parting, the white glint of elongated canine teeth flashing in the dim light of the alley. A smirk curved on his lips when he noted the blondes look of disapproval, disgust. If they were in any other situation, Zayn would have laughed, had he not had his vocal cords being near crushed he’d have laughed right then. Alas, the most noise he was able to make was a strained wheeze of air. He was sure the smirk on his lips painted the picture for the blonde. Watching as his eyebrows knitted together, hand squeezing before finally releasing its grip, but snatching up Zayn’s other wrist, slamming it back against the wall like the other, leaning into the tanned male, a sudden change of expression. 

Lips brushed past Zayn’s ear and his nostrils flared at the close proximity of the smooth expansion of skin and the beating veins just below its surface. He was teasing him now; he could feel the smirk on the other male’s lips.

“You must be young.” There was a giggle (yes, a fucking giggle) and if Zayn still had a functioning heart the sound would have pulled at it. “Ya, fuckin’ stupid twat. You don’t know what I am.” 

Zayn had been busy stretching forward so he could only just glide his lips over the soft skin, stopping at the males words before pulling his head back, eyebrows furrowed again. “…What you are?” 

“So you can speak…here I thought I made you mute. “ There was a sparkle in the blue eyes and Zayn questioned how this man’s mood seemed to flip so quickly. It was in the blue eyes however, that Zayn finally noticed something, a light that danced behind the sapphire blue, a golden yellow color. His brain took a moment to register everything, the speed, the strength, the knowledge of Zayn’s existence and then the eyes. 

Zayn Malik was not a dumb person, not in the least, but he was obviously I fucking moronic vampire. Having spent weeks starving himself for a night to dine on a perfect human specimen, had now landed him in the grasp of a very amused Irish werewolf who was near ready to piss his pants in laughter.

“Fuckin’ stupid bastard. “ 

“Get off me…” 

The wolf smirked. “Ain’t in a position to give orders.”

“I said get off a me, filthy dog. “

There was a growl, highly animalistic in tone and highly arousing in respect to the moment, hands that gripped at his wrists slammed his hands back again, causing a hiss to echo from his throat, Zayn baring his teeth in obvious pain. He wasn’t used to being the submissive, to being the one with lack of control. It was a displeasing turn of events and due to his lack of sustenance there was very little he was capable of doing in turn. Though, with it all in mind, Zayn could not help the sexual gratification he was getting from this position.

Hot breath rushed over his ear again, he felt warm lips meet his cold skin and there was a moment of complete elation at the contrast of temperature. Only a moment before Zayn gained some sense and jerked his head away from the warm mouth. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“Nothin’….” The words fell from the Irish males mouth like sugar, the image of a tail wagging happily filling Zayn’s mind. Sapphire eyes flickered over his face for a moment, a large grin spreading over the werewolf’s face and the vampire was taken aback by the almost mirror affect that was taking place. Just moments before his face matched the others expression (he was only assuming as he truly hadn’t seen his own face), an expression of animalistic desire, drive , all mixed in with the sexual need that always seemed to lace the act of hunting. Dark brows furrowed, Zayn passing a questioning look over the others face, trying to hide just how turned on he was with the way the blonde was looking at him. 

“Hmmm….since we know you ain’t about to bite me, leechy boy. “There was a pause as Zayn gave a warning growl in his throat, causing the Irishman to chuckle once more. “I was thinking about fucking ya as a compensation for your wasted efforts. You’ve been so dedicated.“

Eyes widened for a moment before the feeling of warm lips once again met the cool expansion of his neck. Zayn didn’t jerk his head away this time, biting on his lip instead, holding back the coo of pleasure that sat on the tip of his tongue. It was wrong to do this, if he truly wanted to follow his non-existent vampire handbook, getting sexual with a werewolf definitely would have fallen under the ‘a bigger sin then you’ category. Then again he’d never paid much close to the rules (being he hadn’t even asked for this life) and to be honest, if he wasn’t going to get fed, might as well get fucked? What did he have to lose? He was already dead. 

A soft purr finally slid from his lips as those warm lips kissed at his Adam’s apple, chasing after it as it bounced while Zayn gulped for unnecessary air. Teeth grazed over his skin and the corners of his lips turned up a pleased grin. Fist unclenched and the backs of his hands stayed flush with the wall, doing their best to ground Zayn in the real world. Images of what he was soon going to get flashed through his mind, tongue sliding over his full lips, a low moan vibrating out of his throat at the imagery. The wolf boy worked wonders on his neck, teeth nipping on his skin, tongue circling the bite, sucking on it, bringing color to the otherwise flawless olive skin. 

“Niall…” It was breathed against his skin, brows knitting together in question. The blonde pulled back slightly, hands falling from their grip on Zayn’s wrists, instead sliding themselves down his torso, gripping tightly at his hips. “M’name…so you have something to moan as I’m fuckin’ ya into the wall.”

“Fucking stupid name.” A wicked smirk passed over Naill’s lips, eyes shining again as he glanced over the vampires face. “…Zayn…”

“Says the fuckin’ stupid vamp… Zayn.” Zayns name sounded like honey as it fell from Nialls lips. The way his accent and gruff voice washed over it; Zayn was lost in this upside down world and he loved it. Niall chuckled huskily before slamming his body forward, pressing Zayn hard into the brick; lips finding the others neck once again. He slid his hands along the tanned boy’s torso, dragging the cotton fabric of the other male’s tank top up along the way. His fingers grazed the ice cold skin that lay beneath the cloth and he enjoyed the explosion of fireworks it sent to his nerves, such a drastic change in temperature, Niall wasn’t sure why there wasn’t steam billowing between them yet. Fingers slipped underneath the shoulders of the others leather jacket, pushing it back as his mouth travelled along the curvature of Zayn’s neck and shoulder. There was short groan of pleasure as he grazed his teeth over the hollow of the others collar bone and Niall could not help but grin furiously. It was a nice plus knowing that vampires did indeed still have feeling or at least this one did. Lips parted to suck lightly at Zayn’s collar bone, hands once again travelling back down, enjoying the slight curves to the cold body at his disposal. 

It amused Niall at how suddenly willing the other boy became when he’d announced his want for some intimacy. Though, he hoped the vampire knew just how ‘it’ was done with his breed. Then again immortality was one of the benefits of being a walking dead thing, so Niall could only assume strong handed sex wasn’t something to be feared in the undead world. Perhaps it was preferred? The harder, the more feeling, the better? Thoughts bubbled through the blondes mind as he ground his hips forward against the others, digging into the now bared flesh of Zayn’s sides, yanking him forward. 

The sudden pull knocked the Irish slightly off balance, Zayn taking his opportunity to reverse the positions, bundling the small trace amounts of sub-human strength in his system and flipping them, slamming the werewolf hard against the brick and forcefully capturing Niall’s lips. There was a small whimper from the blonde lad and Zayn took no permission before slipping his tongue between the plush lips, domineering and deepening the kiss as he went. The mouth on mouth was all just a clash of desperate tongues and ravaging teeth and Zayn would have to admit it was personally one of the best snogs he’d ever partaken in. 

Niall broke away first, from what seemed like forever, (one of the two not needing any air ever largely causing this) panting deliciously heavy, blue eyes clouded over with tell-tale signs of lust and arousal. His lips were swollen and Zayn’s were red to match, biting softly on them as he stared at the grinning blonde boy, firmly pressed into the wall. “What would your pack say, pretty boy?”

“Don’t have one, don’t care, now will you shut up.” The words were growled into a demand, hands moving to grip tightly at either side of Zayn’s face, pulling him forward, slamming already bruised lips together. The pain only seemed to heighten the sensations of their actions, they were two creatures made to handle pain, made to enjoy it. There was no tenderness, no second thoughts as hands went from gripping to pulling and ripping. Niall made quick work of the tank top on Zayn’s body, tearing it down the middle and shoving it open so the pads of his warm hands could press deliciously hard into Zayn’s abs. Zayn, like he had imagined doing all those times previous, had made quick work of the red polo, tearing at it until it fell off the blondes body. Niall would have to walk home (if he was still able to) shirtless after this and both young men knew neither would really mind. 

The dominance that Zayn held only for a few moments longer, Nialls rough hands gripping tightly at his sides, pushing him back. Stumbling steps taken until he was pressed back against the opposite wall, the useless air in his lungs knocked out of his mouth in a gasp to which was pleasantly sucked out by kiss-swollen lips. Their actions mirrored that of two teenage boys, raging with hormones and wants, when in reality both were far past that age, far past the hormones. Zayn would not complain; to be honest he was getting used to this already. He didn’t mind being man handled, not be this one at least. He relished in the feeling of burning heat that Niall’s lips left on his cold skin, moaning when they moved over his body, reviving the sensations in his body. Sex had gotten boring a long time ago, sex with humans at least. This was a new and painfully addictive activity. Something, that although he shouldn’t, Zayn could honestly see himself getting used to. 

Niall was in the same state of mind. The blur of sensations and temperature change was sending his mind into a frantic. Impulses to just bend the other male over and end the foreplay were flashing in his mind’s eye and as much as Niall was sure Zayn wouldn’t have minded it at all, the wolf had bigger, better plans for his little bat. 

When air became necessary again, Niall took the moment to break from the fight of tongues, teeth and lips to move his mouth back to the bare skin of Zayn’s neck. He trailed a string of love bits from the crook of his neck down, passing over the male’s collar bone, sucking deliberately over the needled in ink that was there. There was a squirm of indignation from Zayn, wanting the warm lips back where they belonged, one hand reaching out to grip at Nialls neck. Niall simply pushed it away, wrapping one arm around Zayn’s back, pulling him forward against his mouth, ducking his head to wrap his lips around one of his nipples. Tongue flicking over the nub until there was a soft keening sound from Zayn, his hands gripping at the back of Nialls head, body now willing arching forward. Perhaps this submissive thing had its benefits, being at the mercy of such a remarkable mouth and hands. Zayn was willing to get used to it. 

Zayn’s mind was running a mile a minute by then, his body’s once docile sensors on overload, skin crawling with carnal thrill. With his mind out of commission due to the lowering trail of bites and kisses that slid down his torso, Zayn wasn’t quite sure on the exact moments his belt was undone, or when his pants were pulled lower on hips. When he finally regained his cognitive abilities was the moment there was a meeting of wet heat around his dick and well, it was a pleasant surprise. Zayn’s hands surging forward to grip at whatever part of the blonde they could reach, fingers knitting through Nialls hair, while his other hand fell back, gripping at the wall. Head tipped back, another low moan leaving parted lips, tongue sliding over them, humming in simple bliss. Had things went any other way, with any other person, Zayn would have simply been full and that was it. So the fact that he gave up another night hungry in place of getting his brains sucked out his dick didn’t bother him in the slightest. 

What was an added plus was the fact that Niall was incredible at this, like he gave head for a living. The way he hummed when his lips slid as low as they could, his tongue flicking over the slit to catch any pre cum as he pull off, it was fucking with any control Zany still had and it was only moments before Zayn was biting his lip hard and his hand tightened its grip into Nialls hair, holding him still as his body reached its tipping point. 

And there was Niall, on his knees, taking in and swallowing all Zayn gave him, pulling his lips off with a popping sound and a very large satisfied grin. It was like a picture perfect moment filled with obvious taboo and Zayn was deliciously addicted again. Not that it had ever stopped, but now it wasn’t a craving for blood, but simply a craving for Niall. 

With Zayn still boneless, pressing back against the wall to keep from falling over, Niall took the moment to lift back to his feet, leaning to press his lips to Zayn’s, a wicked smirk cemented to his lips, the other hesitating before willing accepting his own taste on the blondes lips. Zayn attempted to grip at Niall, wanting to pull him closer, to return the favor, but his hands were swatted away, one more kiss pressed to his lips before Niall’s warm body was pulled away complete. 

There was a frantic look of confusion on Zayn’s face and the werewolf simply shrugged smiling as he placed his hands into the deep wells of his jeans. “You owe me a new shirt. “ Zayn parted his lips to say something but Niall passed a look towards him that quickly told him to shut up. “Come by my place tomorrow night? I’m off work…and I’m well aware you know where I live.” With that the blonde moved to the entrance of the alley, shivering- simply for show, as the cool air hit his skin full on. “And bring me a new shirt…ya arsehole. “  
With that Niall was gone, leaving Zayn completely struck, still stabilizing himself with the wall, back alone in the shadows like he’d started the night in. Though he should have been upset, another night left hunger, left craving, Zayn couldn’t hold back the pleased smile that formed on his lips. He wasn’t farther from reaching his goal, from finishing his mission. Although he may have changed the wanted result, this night simply got him closer. Zayn liked being closer to Niall.


End file.
